Monday, March 31, 2008

Dearest God,

I was smothered in joy today. Two events: church and a movie.

The last few weeks I have found my congregation reveling in joy with one another. No one greets others like we do. The friendliness of our congregation is something to behold. Whether few or many, we greet one another as if Christ.

I watched with interest the joy erupt on people's faces who listened as a member shared her own newfound joy. A new life with God, a new name to carry that faith. Their smiles and glistening eyes revealed their own inner joy. And they hugged, shook hands, shared kind words and love and joy as they came through the line following the service. Joy seemed to be all over the place!

The movie: Horton Hears a Who. They piled into my car, all five of them, aged 8, 7, 6, 4, 3. I turned up the Disney 98.3 radio station and we all sang as I drove down the street. When we got out of the car, we all held hands to cross the parking lot.

I hate to admit it but I carried candy into the theatre. Six people with their favorite sweet treat. Feeling guilty I bought popcorn and slushes to share. We took our place front and center. The three year old was on my left side and the four year old on the other. These little cousins from three families were so glad to be together. They're still getting to know each other. Until four months ago four of them had never met.

As the movie began the four year old who is new to me too stood up, then backed up onto my lap. She laid her small head back on my shoulder and occasionally she would caress my cheek while we ate popcorn and drank water. Then she would get back into her seat, then onto mine. She genuinely likes me, her new grandma. I love her too.

Following the movie we went to the park to get dirty. Although the equipment was dirty from winter non use and water stood in small puddles, they still ran and played on the swings, the slides, the go-around thingie and a stationery car. They would just run from one thing to another, laughing and hollering.

When I returned the dirty children to my daughter's house, the four year old raised her arms up to me. Although I am not supposed to pick anything up that weighs more than five pounds with my left arm, I lifted that little girl into my arms so she could give me a giant squeeze, then lean back and smile at me. How could I resist?

Joy accompanied me all day long. There is a sweetness to joy, a joy that seems to bubble up from a deep well. Does everyone have this much fun, all in one day? The joy that comes to me is that this joy is not about entitlement. I have done nothing to deserve this kind of joy. It just came to me. And I sensed others around me felt the same way.

I know each day is not just a happenstance, a random act in the universe. There is some structure, some meaningful dynamic at work. I choose to call it God, faith, love made known in beautiful ways. Today I allowed myself to be wrapped up in joy.

Joy, joy, joy!
A call of God
for the saints
to sing.
Joy comes
as I give
my life
more deeply
to the Master.
I know
where joy
comes from.
I know
my life of faith
opens doors
to joy
and more joy.
I anticipate
joy coming.
Even in dark circumstances
joy can come
in the knowledge
that I am present
with the God
of the cosmos.
Turning my eyes
toward God
always reaps joy,
the eternal variety.

Gratefully yours, Andrea

Sunday, March 30, 2008

My dearest God,

I awakened early in the darkness hearing myself say, "Thank you for the blessings. Thank you for the blessings. I began to list them: Playing a game of basketball with my grandson Jack for the very first time. Having my granddaughter Gracie put out her arms to me as I walked in the door. Being given permission to take the same two to a movie today - a first. Enjoying a wonderful spirit at the fellowship group. Helping a friend say YES to God. Observing three friends live their "new" lives. Shaping up the garden with St. Francis standing nearby. Raking and cleaning the yard at the church. Having my granddaughter say, "I have TWO grandmas."

What is a blessing but an unexpected joy, a gift from heaven, a delight, a participation with heaven on earth. I am blessed, so incredibly blessed. As I take in these wondrous happenings, I share them, making the blessing multiply. Why would I want to hoard them, keep them under wraps? In time they will dry up and disperse into the wind. A blessing shared bursts outward onto other people. When someone else receives a blessing I've shared, I want to sing and dance. And sometimes I do.

I can't imagine a greater internal joy than awakening in the middle of a prayer, giving thanks to you, the creator of all blessings.

You are blessed,
God of all blessing.
You bless,
blowing kisses
to your children.
We capture
the kisses
and take them
into the world.
A kiss
to this one,
a kiss
to that one.
Divine kisses
that say wildly,
I love you,
I love you,
I love you.
A blessing
is a kiss
from heaven.
Yesterday
I received
so many.

Growing more in love with you, Andrea

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Dear God,

Why do we have to see something to believe it? Why is a visual aid always necessary in order to believe?

All winter the ground has looked barren. With dead brown leaves swirling in the wind, getting caught in the bushes, from first glance it looked like all is lost.

But this week the flowers began to push up through the ground. Tiny yellow and purple flowers. Undaunted by the look of death, they pushed through, raising their small heads of deep beautiful color. Rising up through the ashes they are a symbol of hope.

Now I knew there were bulbs in that flower bed. I know because I planted them. I knew at the right time they would pop through the soil, bringing new life. But there's something valuable about staring death down, knowing new life is possible.

I have seen dying people, psychologically dying people rise up to new life. The evidence would say there was no possibility for life. Yet, life came anyway.

I choose to live my life in the light of possibility. I've had the privilege of walking beside dying people. I have seen some move straight to death; but I have also witnessed miraculous recoveries, those who somehow knew there was a bulb of possibility within them. Sometimes the inspiration came from outside, some external force calling it out. At other times there was a shakeup in the inside, a stirring of the spirit.

New life is possible. Newly created people, those who have observed first hand a remarkable movement of God's hand have as much potential as there are stars in the skies. Those who want it will step inside it, let it show. Those who are desperate will stumble into it and find the hope they are looking for. Those whose eye is on the change will march into it and celebrate a new life. Either way new life will bud, blossom and flower.

This is the activity of faith. Why does a baby cry out, wailing its arrival if not for the seed of faith inside that believes there is a potentiality to life? Why would anyone bother to take a first step if not for faith? What would you be stepping into? And why in middle age or later would anyone smile in a world growing in fear if not for faith?

Faith is the means by which we step into new life. It doesn't mean that the path will be lined with roses; it simply is a journey by which to live more simply, more joyfully, more fully. Peace resides along the path, a peace that helps ease us into the new life.

Not everyone will enjoy our new life. Not everyone will understand or even want the life themselves. Some will be jealous, others envious. Some downright angry because we have left the old behind. And some will kick and stomp attempting to kick the new life right out of us. But no one can take away what God has put inside. This extraordinary gift, dormancy coming to life, is divine. It is God bursting into the world, like fireworks on a July 4 night. An explosion of beauty that keeps on coming, not always the same, but always beautiful.

Faith,
journey,
seed,
new life,
hope,
beauty,
joy,
these are
your gifts,
your wondrous gifts
to us,
Living God.
How grateful
we are.
Help us step
into the future
with new resolve
to burst forth
for you.

Love, Andrea

Friday, March 28, 2008

Dearest God,

I watched it form, begin to bubble, and rise to the surface. I saw the truth, the beautiful truth revealed. I took hold of its hand, called it out, allowing it to come to life. Truth, the truth that truly does set people free. Truth that brings exactly what we need. Truth that gives us a new chance, a new beginning. Truth that is the YES of God. Truth, that wondrous feeling that says, “I’m on to something, maybe for the first real time in my life; I’m on to something. Something that is changing inside me. My true self being revealed, like a baby being birthed. A baby who will breathe in life, then claim that breath for the rest of time. A true self who will rise up, replacing the old, weary, worn out existence, a broken down body, mind and soul. Having done its work all these years, now the new will replace the old. Restoring and renewing itself, a new creation is stepping forward. Not one, but three. Not just one, but three, itching to step out.

Trusting you completely, setting the stage, making things ready, giving truth a chance, I walked the line of faith, faith that doesn’t compromise or give in. But rather faith that speaks power, an enabling power that changes lives, giving new beginnings.

Out of this faith came courage, that delectable feeling that comes with its own voice, saying, “You can do it! You can do it! You can do it!” Courage that makes the impossible possible. Courage that leads to inner potential. Courage that calls the truth outward, no longer cowering in the corner of the soul.

I saw the gifts of this trust, faith and courage. They have names: Value, Affirmation, and Voice. These three, beautiful in their own right. I watched them dance later, bounced around like a silly bouncing ball accompanying a song. Light and airy, so glad to be alive, playing, laughing, singing. No longer hidden or afraid. They grabbed for life and found such incredible joy, that inner joy that turns you inside out.

They will never hide again. They found the truth of their existence. They will bring the rest of themselves into the light of their truth. The hidden is now revealed. No need to hide any longer. In fact whatever is still hiding away is now calling out for life. The darkness will no longer hide them because the light of God has beamed its beacon and now all those who remained deep inside, like so many fears clustered together, will one by one come out into the light and breathe in the great spirit awaiting them.

I have seen the truth come like a rare, precious gift from heaven. And today I simply bow down to give praise.

You are
the truth
that sets people
free.
You are the light
that shines
into the world.
You are faith
that brings courage
to life.
You are courage
that brings power.
You are power
that says YES
to transformation.
And transformation
is what seeks you out
then sets at your feet.
“Holy, holy, holy Lord,
God of power,
God of might,
Heaven and earth
are full of your glory.
Hosanna in the highest.
Blessed is he who comes
in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest.
Hosanna in the highest.”

Dancing in the spirit, Andrea

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Dear God,

Living inside someone else's destiny is a beautiful view of the future. Seeing the potential, hearing the stirrings of the soul, deciding not to hold on to the supports, giving way to what God brings is one of the most exciting ventures in life. And also scary as hell itself.

I lead a retreat today for three of my favorite people. Your spirit has been stirring them up for months. Following your lead, they began writing, composing, singing. For hours daily. It's not enough. They know you're knocking on their door. They want to open that door, allow the spirit to blow inside, picking up the dust of their lives. But they also know (and this is where it gets real scary) their lives will be changed forever.

I wasn't quite sure what to use to help guide them. After all I've worked for two weeks without a day off. I'm tired. Been a lot of needs out their besides the fact that the glorious Holy Week and Easter were just last week. And I've been leading a study that no one wants to end. They want more. They've tasted the sweetness of the spiritual life and they want to take a hike deeper into the woods of faith.

So I prayed, looked around my study. There it was lying on my shelf. Of course, it was the right thing, the right book. I'd forgotten. But you hadn't. I've been holding it for just this occasion. Second Acts.

Participating in the transformation of a human spirit, releasing the inner power, enabling a deeper look into the future is one of my favorite things to do. While others are sweating, I'm laughing, not the kind that hurts, but rather the AHA of the spirit. Potential is simply God's given gift, yours, made with your own hands for your beloved.

Just like last night's study, we stand at the precipice waiting to know what will happen next. Standing there alone, the spirit wind blowing all around, there is an excitement that you started all this. Your idea.

Remembering the winds of the spirit in my own call to be faithful as a your servant stirs my heart into joy. I remember the terror, not wanting to think too highly of myself, wanting to fulfil that call, yet being so scared to step into the future with you. Seven years. Seven years it took me until I ran out of excuses. Finally said yes. And although there have been moments when things were rough and tough, I live in the sweet Yes of God. I know I am where I am destined to be, doing daily what you whisper.

Living with people inside their destiny is a holy place. Choosing to live or die the dream is a tough choice but for those whose heart beats for God, there is only one choice. And I have the beautiful privilege of standing with, then standing behind as they step forward. Joy, sheer unadulterated joy.

Spirit Wind,
blow on me;
blow on my friends.
Reveal
your plan.
Sing its song.
And we
who await you
will sing
in return.

Loving you into eternity, Andrea

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

My dearest God,

Could we ever lose you? Would you ever let us go?

An experience of faith touches a place down deep within. The experience leaves a mark on our mind and spirit. We think about it, reflect upon it. We embrace it and remember it, putting it in a place of total recall. At times we call it up, act upon it. Courage can arise from a single faith experience, remembered again and again.

But what if we want to live with you daily, not just when we go to the mountain? Mountain top experiences feel good; they renew our faith, make our love for you grow. But eventually we must come back from the mountain. We cannot live there permanently.

Faith grows best in the valley, where rich, fertile soil receives the seed, where living water falls regularly upon the seed and soil, allowing growth to take place. In such moments we are not looking back toward the mountain, but ahead where we are. When we are still, when we focus on you, when we are open, when we are willing, when we speak your name, when we are ready, you come to us and we begin to see you in the tiniest things.

I remember several years ago getting down on the ground and watching a tiny ant carry the weight of a bread crumb. I am sure the crumb weighed more than the ant, yet the insect was carrying his food and moving along. I thought to myself about the incalculable ability of an ant to carry more than his own weight. What an outstanding plan.

I have seen the impossible become possible right in the valley. A little boy in our congregation just recently was complaining to his father that he hadn't collected enough Easter eggs for his basket but when he saw a child next to him who had none, he took three eggs from his basket and hid them for the child. This same boy has had his own share of challenges, yet he saw a need and his heart strings were strummed and he was moved from self centeredness to other directed. The child who found the three eggs was delighted. The boy I think was surprised and pleased with himself. Is this not an act of sacred love? Did this boy not step forward to do what he could to help someone else? How is it possible that this child with so many challenges in his life would do such a thing if not for faith?

Faith is seeing life from a unique perspective. It is a recognition that something bigger is taking place than an act of my own will. It is seeing beauty in something small, even something not so pretty. Faith is about trusting the One who made the cosmos. It is giving ourselves to the greater good. Faith is about walking to a sacred tune. It is singing and dancing our praise when we recognize that faith has again worked. Faith is about love, being loved and loving at the same time. It is a recognition that I have been loved into the world. A simple act of sex can bring about a revolution of love, one person loving another, serving another, giving to another. God bringing life from God's own self.

Faith is thread running through the DNA, every cell. It is a livingness, an act of life that lives inside. Just as I cannot remove a single strand of DNA from every part of me, I cannot lift faith from the strand. I cannot rip and tear it from my soul.

If it is true that I am made in the image of God, then I must carry the gene of God, somehow, some way. I am made that way, created that way. I bear the mark of God, like it or not. I can make the gene within me beautiful or I can attempt to destroy it, making it into something else. This is all for nothing. Because I do not have the power to reconfigure what God has put inside me. I can act like it is different, but I can't really change it.

It is not possible for you to remove something so extraordinary from yourself, for we are part of you forever and ever.

Most Wonderful God,
this tiny exercise
this morning
just creates
more love
and trust
and faith
within me.
I know you
and you know me.
I am not God;
I do not attempt
to be God.
I like my place
with you.
For you are God
and I am yours.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Dear God,

They walked in with chains around their wrists, waist and ankles. Dressed in striped or orange prison garb, they walked right by us. With the words, "Prison Inmate" inscribed on the back of their shirts, I smiled at each one. I wanted to impart hope. Most seemed seasoned, like they have been here before. But one girl, well, she wasn't a girl, not much more than a teenager, she looked scared to death. They were seated on the front row.

I was in court today to be a support to a friend who was changing her name. She sat with her attorney at the table close to the judge's seat. After being sworn in, her attorney asked her several questions. Name, address, if she had ever committed a felony, etc. "Why do you want to change your name?" The big question. "I carry the name of my mother (my middle name) and the name of my father (my last name). I have experienced a past life of abuse. A few years ago I sought counselling and now by faith I am ready to begin a new life with a new name.

The judge smiled the whole time. I know this judge. He is tough, never smiles. But today was different. He was not dealing with a problem but rather with a person who has taken her deep wounds and done something about them. She has sought to rise up from the ashes of the past to make a new name for herself, to follow the path of faith. He granted her request.

I know with all that I am that this judge would later point out my friend to the inmates. He will say, "Did you hear that woman talk about her past? Did you listen to her when she said she had been abused and that she had sought out counselling, that by faith she had changed her life, now she wanted to begin a new life with a new name? Well, learn from her. If she could do it, so can you.

The words of faith. A witness to the God who transforms people. A testimony to God's power and hard emotional work.

It is a new beginning for my friend. Her middle name is a compilation of letters from the names of very close friends. Her last name means something like, "By God's grace." What could be more beautiful?

So many times you talked about new beginnings, being a new creation. You gave people a new start, a new chance to begin again. You breathed new life into dead, weary, broken bones. And today I saw those bones rise up and dance. You did it again.

Wondrous, Amazing God,
you are our sure foundation.
Nothing about us
makes sense
without you.
We are baby children,
selfish, self-centered,
who want
our own way.
But you talk to us,
share with us
your great love.
You reveal yourself
to us
again and again.
Who could miss
sightings of the Holy?
I watched
a transformation today
and I am giving
deep thanks.

Love, Andrea

Monday, March 24, 2008

Dear God,

The day after Easter. What do I do the day after Easter? I hold on to hope.

How easy it is to forget the dramatic rising of your son, to reduce the resurrection event to a small hometown parade, to let go of the eternal hope that rose from the grave with you.

The day after, I go back to living a life of my own, living off my own resources, talents, and skills. I clean up the leavings of Easter flowers, then go back to living the same old way as if Easter had not come. It was just another holiday I might say to myself.

The test of faith is not just to live it on Easter Sunday. It is growing that faith on Easter Monday, working it on Easter Tuesday and celebrating it on Easter Wednesday. And when Easter Thursday comes along I start all over. Easter is either Easter with its resurrection power for every day or it's just another bunny with candy day.

When I operate as if Easter had not occurred, I stand shamed before you. I realize I just wanted to be part of the parade. I just wanted to wear my pretty new dress and shoes.

It was Easter Monday when the disciples made a decision to give their lives in faith. And the same exercise is mine. As your disciple I have to decide too. Am I going to give my life to faith and resurrection and Holy Spirit power today or am I not?

Source of resurrection power,
I stand
in your light,
remembering
this day is yours,
not mine.
I did not call forth
the day
nor call the night
to retreat.
And the light
of that truth
is enough
for me
to follow you
on Monday.
Sometimes
faith waivers,
not my belief
but acting upon
my belief.
That's what faith is,
the action
of my belief.
Oh, Lord,
I want
to be found faithful
on Monday
and Tuesday
and Wednesday.
It's your plan
for my life
I seek,
not my own picture
of who I am
and what I am about.
Forgive me
again
for failing to follow.
I always know when
I am doing it
because suddenly
the cross you took
from me
becomes heavy again.

At your feet, Andrea

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Dearest God,

The gift of Easter was experiencing it from the side, from the back, from below, from a distance. Always before I have seen it straight on. But this year your holy day was revealed in new ways.

At 4:30 a.m. I opened the front door to listen for the birds singing the Easter song. But the birds were not singing. Too early I said to myself. I took my shower, dressed, finished my message and then stepped back outside. Still nothing.

I drove in the darkness, such a glorious thing to do on Easter morning. Picking up a friend for service we spoke briefly of Easter as I rehearsed my morning message.

At church there was no birdsong. Second year in a row. What's happening? I thought. "The birds won't sing until you do." I heard you say.

The sunrise service began in darkness, lighted only by various white votive candles. Early morning pilgrims gathered to be the first to hear the song, to see the empty tomb, to hear the story, to experience the reality of resurrection.

In the distance I could barely see the shape of three crosses. Too dark. In the quiet we listened to the readings from Genesis to Luke. The golden thread of Easter revealed from the first day of earth. And then I noticed the crosses being revealed, one standing out from the others. They were empty. The Easter flowers below were a stark contrast to the dark brown wood of the cross. A transformation was taking place.

And then Nick read the resurrection story. The tomb was empty. Jesus alive spoke to Mary Magdalene. It was then the birds began to sing. My friend and I heard them at the same time. First one bird, then more. The perfect moment.

I listened for the human song. The three sang out their praise. What a glorious sound. More so because they have been on a desert journey discerning their way, listening for your voice, anticipating your direction. Three people transformed in six weeks. Ready to lead the Easter pilgrim parade.

The service over, the lights were turned on, revealing the colorful flowers at the base of the crosses. The handbell ringers took their places, chatting away their Easter greetings. New life was taking place in the sanctuary as peoples were readying to make their Easter offerings of love and devotion. I knelt at the cross, looking up. From beneath I worked on the flowers, adding more. I'd bought two bouquets, my love offering to you. I couldn't wait to place my flowers in the chicken wire surrounding the middle cross.

I went upstairs to the upper room joining in the celebration of families having Easter breakfast together. Families adding one more, two more. Reconfiguring family on Easter morning. How glorious.

I put on my white robe and stole of many colors. The people were gathering, happy faces. I joined them in the narthex. The handbell ringers began playing their random bells on their journey to the cross and then began to play their own Easter song. I sat in the front pew. Turning I saw the hands and bells from the side, all working in concert together. What a beautiful display of hands making their offering to you.

And then I was distracted by yet another family carrying their flowers, walking up the steps to the cross. From the back I saw a father lift his child to put his flower near the top of the cross. What symbolism! What beauty!

And then the organ began to sing its own song. Quiet for weeks, now it added its own melodious sound and we began to sing, "Christ is risen! Shout Hosanna! Celebrate this day of days. Christ is risen! Hush in wonder; all creation is amazed. In the desert all surrounding, see a spreading tree has grown..." Brian Wren's words were perfect. Our desert journey had shown us the spreading tree, new life bursting all around, inside us.

My whole self joined in the singing. From a distance, from below, from the side, from the back I had seen Easter coming to life. I could see the women's faces, their shock and amazement as Jesus spoke to them. I sang louder, more confident. I wanted heaven to hear my voice singing out my praise from earth. I wanted to join the glorious sound of the earth singing its song to our Creator. From all over the earth, from north to south, from east to west, all 24 hours we were singing together your song.

What glory
was revealed today.
Risen, again.
We had risen up
to sing your praise.
We celebrated
the rebirth
of your own son.
Glorious wonder!
Beauty untold!
Christ is risen,
yes,
indeed.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, March 22, 2008

My dearest God,

It is the Eve of Easter. The morning is dark, wet. It is the in-between time of crucifixion and resurrection. A day of mourning. The light of Christ snuffed out, darkness rolling in. A day of hope. Will resurrection come?

I read the story in public last night. The story after the arrest, coming before Pilate, the crowd hungry for blood. Carrying the cross, hanging, dying. I snuffed the candle myself. The quiet. Leaving. Even now I feel the abandonment, the aloneness, the crosses standing alone as a symbol of death. Silence, sheer silence.

There is part of me who wants to go to the cross now. I want to run there. I want to sit there. In the darkness. I want to be with God who grieves his son. I want to be present, to break down the barriers of hate and rejection. I want to bring a wave of acceptance, love, understanding, beauty, faith. It's what I want to do on the eve of Easter.

I sigh, thinking about last night. Sitting on the first pew, my eyes fixed upon the crosses, the middle one, the one with the tall, white round candle at its base, the light still flickering, then going out. The warmth gone. Growing cold.

I went out
to eat
after the crucifixion.
I laughed and teased
and ate
a full plate.
I acted
as if
nothing had changed.
There's part
of me
who wishes
I would have stood
in the middle
of the restaurant
and cried out,
"Jesus is dead;
we killed him."
Everything has changed.
But...
I would have been arrested
for disturbing the peace,
the peace of the people.
Are we at peace
with ourselves?
Can we rationalize
our peace
in light of our darkness?
What peace
do we have
without him?

Love, Andrea

Friday, March 21, 2008

Dearest God,

We sat at round tables, talking about the day's events. We were regular people, old and older with the exception of our 20 something student pastor.

I stood and gave my round table friends an option not to participate in the footwashing service. But they all leaned down, took off their shoes and socks, then slipped them under the table. They were ready to be servants.

I lifted the large round white ceramic bowl and placed it before my young colleague. Then I took the pitcher filled with warm water. I knelt and put the white towel across my thighs. I leaned over, poured water into the bowl and placed Nick's feet into the bowl. There I took handfuls of water and let it flow out of my hands onto his feet. I took his feet in my hands and held them. And then I prayed for this man of God. A minute later I dried his feet, then placed the white towel on his lap.

I returned to my seat in the quiet upper room. I could not help watching each one as their feet were washed, then taking the towel, kneeling and washing their neighbor's feet. What a beautiful array of love received and shared. One man 95 years old, his first time, I am sure, kneeling before a lady in her 70's. I was certain I was watching Jesus.

I thought of the great numbers of people who've "washed" my feet throughout my 61 years. Persons whose love cared for my needs, reached out during a time of suffering, those who gifted me with friendship and agape love. So many that tears formed in my eyes and fell down my cheeks.

Composing myself I stood at the table prepared just like the one 2,000 years ago. The body. The blood. The wondrous gift. And as I stood there looking at my friends I remembered the countless tables where I've received your grace. Every one the table of my Lord.

We offered the gift to one another. The blue clay plate and cup from the Taize community in France, the brothers, the foreign population from all over the world joining together to sing and eat together. Is there anything more beautiful?

As we hugged one another goodbye, I realized that your own son was present with us.

Your presence
so blesses me.
I recognize
my smallness
and your greatness.
I know
I have not earned
your great love.
Yet the table
is set
for me.
And you still
lean down
and wash
my dirty feet.
So filled
with gratitude.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Dearest God,

Yesterday I reached upward and touched heaven. In the same day I visited the bowels of hell. I found you waiting.

Grabbing hold, I discover spiritual power, a power to love, a power to hate all that seeks to reduce the human soul to a smattering of cells. An increase in my ability to move beyond human borders, finding the sacred, stretching me way beyond what and who I am, I recognize the hand that holds that kind of power.

I saw the world from above and below. I witnessed the gift of mystery that causes us to reach heights unknown, whether in heaven or in hell. I felt loss and gain yesterday. With the swing of the pendulum, I caught a glimpse of both worlds, with the living and the dead.

On this side of yesterday I know the incredible, unimaginable love of God for all his children. Those who step closer to heaven in search of themselves and those who dabble in hell, not yet sure that heaven can be their home.

I find that my search for a living God in the daily existence calls me ever more to stretch beyond my self-made bounds, my box, my limitations. I am searching for the fullest reality of who I am in the scheme of things and my quest takes me to those whose lives are shattered by pain and sorrow.

What I know to be sure is that my pilgrimage always takes me to you however twisted the path may be. And one of the joys of my life is that my own spiritual trek causes me to take heaven to those in hell.

Hope is what comes of it. A hope that helps the downtrodden to rise up again, leaving behind the ashes of yesterday. Hope that gives us the wherewithal to live and breathe once again. Hope is the flesh put back on our weary bones. Hope is the gift that restores, renews, revitalizes. Hope, that comes from you.

Hope,
Lord,
hope is always
on your lips.
I shall not die
as long as
I hope.
And neither
will those
around me.
The slightest quiver
of your hand
brings hope
to the brokenhearted.
I wander
in search
of meaning
and never fail
to stumble
upon hope
that gives life.

Loving you always, Andrea

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Dearest God,

How much trust does it take to make something happen, especially in your church? One person's worth of trust? Two? Ten? More? I have no doubt in my trust in you.

But what about us? How much do you trust us? How much do you trust us to make something happen in your church? Are we trustworthy enough to make your church what you want us to be?

Such questions are haunting because I am sure it takes a modicum of trust from each of your people. Can you "build" your church on one person? Two? Ten?

And what is the state of your church in the world, Lord? Are we Christians to be trusted to be all that we can be in the world? Aren't we the bearer of hope and trust to the world? Do we not carry the world's greatest story? Do we not have the best news?

What is trust? Is trust simply faith with feet? If many people have faith with feet, will there be enough trust to be your church?

Sometimes faith
is on the line.
Perhaps trust
is safe.
It is faith
about which
we talk.
Is faith enough
to truly be
your church?
It's holy week.
Doubt is always present.
Doubt plus trust
with an equal measure
of faith.
We can be anything
your heart desires.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Dearest God,

Illness can change our perspective. The view I have when I am well differs at times from the one when I'm not.

When I'm feeling sick, my view can be cloudy, somewhat distorted. Like clouds that hide the sun, illness can block the beauty. My view can appear dark and gray, without color. If I give in to it, I can begin to believe that that is all there is. But if I can acknowledge that this is a temporary state of affairs (however long) I can remain with the truth that tells me the sun is shining above the cloud of my illness.

I remember flying to Texas one time. It was a rainy, cloudy, gray day. I could imagine that I would be bumping from cloud to cloud from Indiana to Texas. I dreaded the flight.

It was about half an hour into the flight when we broke through the clouds. I remember being stunned by the amazing beauty of blue skies, a few puffy white clouds and bright sunshine. I pressed my face into my small window and I took in every ounce of beauty that I could, all the way to Texas.

I learned a lesson that day. What appears to me on a sick and/or down day is not the whole picture. It is part of the picture, but the best part is what I don't see, yet I know is present.

I could have decided not to fly that gray, rainy day. I could have just said, forget it. But I didn't; I flew anyway. In fact when I saw the beauty behind the clouds, I soared for three hours. I prayed. I laughed at myself. I watched for pictures of you in the clouds. I studied the amazing color of blue in the skies. I imagined myself dancing with you among the white, billowy clouds. I looked below where the rainy clouds were coloring the picture for those below. I even prayed for them.

Each day you challenge me to see above my present condition. You raise my eyes to you where you show me incredible pictures of life in the light.

Thank you for gray, sick days because such things teach me to take the time to sit at your feet, to ask you questions, to listen for your answers, to hear the words of the Master. "Once upon a human time there was this girl who wanted to soar with angels, but she let her eyes drop to earth and she fell. Bruised and somewhat broken, she felt someone lifting her face back up. The angels were circling, waiting for her once again and the girl stood, smiling. Recovering from her temporary fall, she took his hand and before she knew it, a great and wondrous wind lifted her higher and higher and higher..."

Mighty and Powerful God,
sometimes I allow
my situation, condition
to give me a view
that is not altogether accurate.
I choose
to see
only in part
and I am disappointed.
My chin falls,
scraping upon the ground.
But in the quiet silence,
I hear a striking voice
calling out to me,
"Wanna play?"

I love you, Andrea

Monday, March 17, 2008

Dearest God,

Seasonal Affect, a deficiency of light. Someone talked to me about it today. The woman goes into a slump when she does not get enough light.

I do the same thing. However, I don't have the disorder. I'm fine with gray clouds and rainy days. But I'm not okay when I don't get enough light, your light, that is. Perhaps that's why worship is so important to me. I go to fill up on light, light that will sustain me through the day, the week. Light that will accompany me in my daily living. Light that will show me the way in my relationships, in my ministry, in my outreach to others. Light that makes me so full that I will want to share it with others.

Of course, the light is you. I want to fill myself up with your light because your light makes my life shine. It's what bubbles up inside me, then spills over onto others. I can't manufacture this light. Like going to a store to buy a 100 watt bulb, there is no way I can make this kind of light. But I can grasp onto it. I can see the light rays and I grab hold, hold on tight.

My writing you, our conversations together is an exercise in the light. The light shines first and I look into the light and there I see you. I reach for the light. I walk into it. I see the brilliance, the radiance and I say I want more. I want to live my whole life in the light. I don't like moving from light into darkness into light into darkness, the pattern of life. I want to permanently step into the light and there live all my days.

This desire to live in the light is not a death wish. Rather, it is a life wish. I want to live light. Yes, that's right, I want to produce light in my own life, so that every moment in time I am both in the light and producing light. The source is God, always God, only God. You are the light producer. "I am the light of the world." You said. I believe it.

Light,
Glorious Light,
you are.
Only because
I have lived
in darkness
can I recognize
the amazing beauty
of the light.
I am blind
without it.
Stumbling over obstacles,
I spend my time
wandering, worrying.
All the while
failing to just
live in light
and seeing my way clear.
Oh Lord,
give me a disposition
toward you always,
so that
when faced
with the choice
of light and darkness,
I will always choose
the light.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Dear God,

I could see the events taking place. Historical events unfolding. Mary pouring perfume on Jesus' feet. Jesus on a donkey on his way to the cross. And me standing at the gate, waiting to decide whether or not to enter the celebration of new life.

I felt myself inside the story as I preached today. I wanted God's story to be the story of my life. I wanted your story to be my life's story.

Invitations come along, invitations to join the Sacred story. Sometimes I take the invitation and join in the festivities; other times I make excuses. Today I wanted no excuse. There was nothing more I wanted than to join the story.

Perhaps it was because a celebration is easy. Fun. No cost. I just join the other happy people. But what about Thursday at the table with Christ? The last supper? Would I join him at the table? Would I follow him to pray? Would I remain in the garden by his side, praying? Would I fall asleep? Would I walk beside him to the jail and ultimately to the cross? It's easier to join the party when it's a happy event than when it is a costly event, the cost perhaps my own life.

I felt myself wanting to do everything you wanted me to do from the sublime to the difficult. But do I have the faith inside me to say yes to everything? Do I have enough spiritual stamina to follow a path that will lead to you every time, although the path will lead through dark valleys?

These are the questions of Holy Week, questions I am faced with answering. I answer with my love. But will my legs carry me the distance?

Holy Face of God,
I cannot look
into your eyes
and say yes
to every question.
I want to,
I desperately want to.
I am afraid.
I have walked through
deep darkness before.
And I have always
found you waiting.
I have been afraid
and you have dissolved
my fears
and my tears.
I want to walk
to the cross
with you.
Make me able.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Dear God,

I awakened in the night listening to myself praying to you, words of praise and glory, words of acclamation. I remember thinking how beautiful the words were, how I wanted to write them down. Then I fell back to sleep.

This morning as I opened my eyes I remembered the encounter but not the words. It was then I realized that there are some cherished words that never make their way to the paper. They are not intended to. They are for you and you alone.

An intimate relationship with you means a coupling of spirit, a unique bonding of divine and human. It is the oneness that Jesus must have talked about when he said the Father and I are one. It is a coming together like no other. Two truly are one.

Standing apart from the experience, looking at it through the magnifying glass, I can't begin to imagine the full dynamic at work. How it is that one can completely bond oneself to God in a teeny moment in history. There is at that one perhaps split second that nothing stands between the two. There is an intimacy like no other. Two hearts beating as one. Eyes for the other only. An agape love in motion.

But there is a danger. The human can think that they are equals bonding together. One can walk away feeling superior; yet a human cannot be equal to you. We come to you. It is you who seals the two together. We catch a glimpse of the awesome beauty of God, of your grace-filled love. We feel beloved. At that moment nothing else matters. Meeting our Maker, we understand better our clay vessel. Hand shaped, in part, we know our value to you; more importantly, we are enthralled with the greatest value in all the world, the touch of the Master.

I can't begin to explain it, describe it, or define it. It is simply a uniting of spirits, beautiful untainted spirits.

What more can one say?

I know why
in the old days
your people
could not look upon you
and live.
They could not speak
your name.
They understood
the majesty
of Yahweh.
They knew their place
in the divine scheme.
They knew
your great power.
They bowed down
in awe and humility.
But today
we use your name
so casually,
as if to diminish you down
to nothing more
than a curse word.
There is no beauty
in the curse.
And there is no power,
no wonder
no reverence.
Yet,
willing hearts
are still able
to find you,
to discover
that you love us,
still,
even when
we are unlovable.
Such a union
in the night
bespeaks
the wondrous nature
of God.

I shall always love you, Andrea

Friday, March 14, 2008

Dear God,

Procrastination, a nasty nagging habit. The thoughts that come to mind when I have to do a particular task sometimes keeps me from following through. It's not about everything I have to do, just three or four things. By nature I am not a procrastinator. However, there are some things I find hard to do. Sometimes it is difficult to break through, to step forward, to make the call, to send the letter, to complete the task.

This week I made a call I had waited nearly two weeks to make. I thought about it every day. It was a simple call. And the person I called was more than happy to do the task I asked. So why was that so difficult in my mind?

The nagging voice is worse than actually doing the task. Yet, I find myself waiting. Eventually I have to do whatever it is that needs done. Why wait? Why not do it now and be done with it?

Fear. Fear holds me back. What if? What if the person says no? It means more work, thinking, regrouping.

Perhaps it's a job I don't like. Or I think other things are more important. Trouble is that at some point the job, the task, the work becomes a priority.

Lord, I don't ever want to be a procrastinator. I want to do what needs to be done. I want to follow through on the task. I want to do what you ask me to do.

If I practiced the presence of God in my every day, every moment living, I would have to hide if I procrastinated because I would know I was trying to sidestep the task you have given me. I would feel guilty, ashamed. I would have to face my fears and/or my task as you stood with me. I know I would be moved to do the task because my life's one goal is to be faithful to you.

I want to be a faithful follower, one who takes whatever task you give me and does it well. I would want to do it as a gift response to you for every blessing that you give me, beginning with the promise of your presence and your grace-filled love.

How much differently I would operate if I truly walked each day like Brother Andrew who practiced the presence of God. He saw you as he washed the dishes, tended the garden, did the mundane chores.

The reality is that you are here. You are beside me. You do know what I do and how I do it. You tell me what I need to do. I don't have to go asking. You are the one true reality in my life that remains constant.

This morning,
God of my dreams
and visions,
I want to do
every task
awaiting my help.
I want to do
it all for you.
I want
to be faithful
now and always.
Speak to me
in all my hiding places.
Draw me out
like a child
called by her parent.
Set me upright
for my work
that brings order
to chaos.
I want to be
a servant
for you.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, March 13, 2008

My dearest God,

He came home so full of joy. A dream he has held for a long time has finally been accepted by others who can put flesh to the dream. He talked on and on. I've not seen him this joyous in years.

Retirement is the epitome of some dreams. Not my husband's. He's always seen bigger, wider, better for our whole church.

His dream may finally be realized. Another meeting is set to continue the movement forward.

A dream can lay dormant for a long time. Or maybe not dormant, maybe it's just not the environment for change, yet. But your time comes when all the pieces are in place. Then you gently whisper, "It's time." And the shift takes place.

Faith is what lives in the gap of time. That stirring of the heart and soul won't stop. Trusting you in the "in-between" time is the stuff faith is made of. Waiting, yielding, expectant with God, until you call time is the joy of the Lord. Can we wait or will we run ahead alone? Will we pout and cry because we have not gotten our own way? Will we throw away the dream because it was not enacted in our time? Will we grouse, angry with God because we believe God doesn't care? Will we be so disappointed as to turn on ourself thinking we were so dumb to think of such an idea? Oh so many choices to make in the "in-between" time.

Perhaps the "in-between" time is the most important time. The attitudes we hold, the behaviors we exhibit, the ways in which we are good "wait...ers" are the gift we give to you as we anticipate your movement. We are content in the "in-between" time because this is our time to do what we want, to rest in arms who can hold us all, to sing and dance, to offer glory, to have fun knowing our future is awaiting us in the only hands that can offer it. Soon our time will come and we will have the "work" of our future to do. But now in the present, in the "not time yet" we can enjoy the God who is the center of our faith. And why not? Why not enjoy this grand and glorious God whose love knows no bounds?

Embrace it, I hear your voice saying. Embrace the "in-between" time. It is a gift you have given us. Our response is our gift back.

Dreams,
those ethereal visions
that dance,
swirling and twirling
in our minds.
Dreams,
your picture
of our possibilities.
Dreams,
the work of God,
are the gift
of "in-between" time.
Dreams,
the future
in the present.
How grand,
how glorious.
Dance with me,
God,
as I dream
with you.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Dear God,

My sister called me. How many years has it been? Six, seven, eight? She's coming home again. What once was lost now is found.

My family was lost. We wandered, couldn't find our way back. For years we stayed away, not wanting to go home. We looked for other places. But we were never content. Our hearts were broken, the pieces strung along the paths we took. Didn't have the wherewithal to follow our own footsteps back.

But one day. It just happened. Years after leaving home we found a path that lead us to one another. Surprised to find a brother, a sister, a daughter, a cousin on our same path leading to the same place, we offered gentle hellos. We didn't walk together, weren't ready. But we took comfort that we were each headed toward the light that warms, breaking the chill, the light that lifts the fog, bringing clarity. The burdens of the past that had held us back, began to fall, chunk by chunk. I know because I heard it, felt the lightening of the load.

In the light we gathered, amazed to see the changes in others only to realize the scales had simply fallen from our own eyes, enabling us to see the truth. In the light everything is beautiful. Even the scars take on a new hue. Life begins to make sense. All things take on greater value.

This light, it is yours. Like a good father shines the light for a child in the dark to follow, we grasp hold and walk toward it. What comfort and hope comes as we trust the light to show us the way. You are the way home.

Shine on me,
light of heaven.
Lead my way.
Be the light
that warms
my chill.
Be the light
that guides.
Be the light
that reveals
the truth
that sets us free.
Be the light
that I might stretch
to grab a ray
shining
just for me.
Let me be
a light ray
for you,
shining light
for others
lost in the darkness.
Let me hold
your light
like a lampstand
so the whole world
can find its way.
Light of the world,
I bow down
in your grace.
Once broken in spirit,
now restored
in the light.
You are the light,
the light of the world,
the light in my life.
May my light
point the way
to you,
the true Light.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Dearest God,

A caterpillar becomes a butterfly. A bulb becomes a flower. A baby becomes an adult. Over time transformation takes place.

I am watching souls change before my eyes. Persons whose faith was but a bud, now maturing into full blossom. I see it in their eyes, hear it in my ears. Faith blooming.

Persons who walk beside me in your church are allowing faith to take root. At first there is curiosity and then more than that. They are tasting and seeing the fruits of your love and grace. They like it. And that's when I see the bud burst from the ground, a seed deeply placed now showing itself proudly. A bud rising in the light, looking to the light to give it the stamina to rise tall, to stretch and produce a bright and beautiful flower with leaves of faith spread out for the world to see. Radiant color filling what was once an empty space. The light coaxing the flower to its full beauty.

Transformation is the miraculous act of love. Its roots find love and then stretch out and grow in love. This is the work of the spirit, the spirit that brings new life. One flower leads to another until a whole garden appears.

I see the garden growing in your church. It is not an obligation, a forced piece of work. It is the natural work of God. As the Master Gardener you tend to your garden, watering, weeding, pruning, harvesting. You speak life to your garden and it speaks back. "Glory to you, Most High."

An incredible sight. One that breeds faith to other empty spaces, lost souls. And the work of transformation begins again.

You are Life itself.
All things grow
at your call.
They love
to hear your voice.
We love
to hear your voice.
The sweet melody
of love
calling out
to the planted seeds.
Come to life,
you cry out.
And like children
we take root
and grow.
Who could not grow
in your light and love?
Every child
in the planet
started as a seed.
Nurtured in the soil
of love,
we can be more.
Transformation.

Loving you always, Andrea

Monday, March 10, 2008

My dearest God,

My daughter turned 39 yesterday. I bought her a special gift she had been wanting. I watched her face as she opened the gift. She was so excited. I've waited 13 years to be with her on her birthday. It's a new day.

I sat with my 15 year old granddaughter turning the pages of six photo albums I had brought with me. I wanted her to see her mother as a baby, toddler, and young girl. "Missing pieces of history", I told her.

When I got ready to leave the party, my four year old granddaughter climbed up on my lap with her arms wide open. She nuzzled my cheek as I gave her a big squeeze.

My family together. Finally. I am still amazed by it all. I am so thrilled, so pleased, so blessed.

This is your work. I could not have brought a family together. I tried but failed. This is your work.

Your work,
your handiwork,
O Lord.
You have mended us,
repaired the torn places;
you have restored us,
making us new.
How can I possibly
show you my gratitude?
How can I exhibit
my heart's greatest joy?
I love you,
Lord,
I give thanks
for your generosity.

Loving you always, Andrea

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Dearest God,

I received a postcard from Rome. Sister Ketari had written me. I felt blessing come to my soul.

I had met her on the desert mountain in Abiquiu. I was intrigued by her name. She had chosen Ketari when she made her final vows. I was familiar with Ketari Tekawitha, a Native American woman who had professed Christianity. I had lead a novena on Ketari for the Carmelites.

I introduced myself to her. I learned that she had been asked to lead a Native American dance in Rome. She planned to buy dance clothing at a thrift shop. I suddenly felt a desire to purchase everything she needed. When I told her I would be honored to provide the clothing, headband and feather, and moccasins, she teared up and hugged me. We hugged each other. When Mother Superior came in, she told her the story. She just smiled and said, "Providence, my dear, providence."

I found a Native American in Santa Fe who helped me select the clothing. I bought the most beautiful feather and jewelry. I left the package for pick up. That was November. Ketari left the day after Christmas.

Yesterday I read the card. She had indeed danced and then given the skirt to an African sister who does liturgical dance for ill women. How beautiful and wonderful. The skirt is swaying in the spirit for women who are ill and dying. Yet another example of God at work.

Is there no detail left out, missing? Do you connect everything? Does the eternal cord ultimately connect all things together? Love's cord connected me with the Carmelites 20 years ago and with Ketari about ten years ago and with Sister Ketari in November, then with an African sister and ill women. It doesn't end, does it? Faith connecting.

I dance
in rhythm
with your
wondrous spirit.
And so do
my sisters.
We are one
together.
We hear
the same voice.
We sing
the same praise.
We offer
the same glory.
We dance
to the same tune.

Loving you always, Andrea

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Dearest God,

My search for God has lead me on many journeys, many treks to many places. Yesterday, it was just a short jaunt to the bowling alley. My granddaughters 7 and 6 and I went bumper bowling. I didn't even know how to initiate the computerized game board. But in time we were in full swing.

Thank goodness for bumpers. Without them my score would have been 16 or 17. The score was not the big thing; that's what made it such a beautiful experience. It was when we hit anything, even when we knocked down one or two pins that we got so excited for one another. When we hit it really big like a strike or spare, we ran to the winner and we danced together, hootin' and hollerin'.

I realize that such joy comes from a deep place. We weren't keeping score; (thank goodness, I came in last) we were lifting up, encouraging one another, sharing in each person's joy. By the time we left we each felt affirmed, supported and loved. I know this is the work of God in us.

Did you see us,
Great and Wondrous God,
did you see
our love expressed?
Did you see
our smiles,
our laughter?
Did you see
our comfort
when we missed
the pins?
Did you see us,
Lord,
did you see us
using our faith
to bring more joy?

Love, Andrea

Friday, March 7, 2008

Dear God,

The Damiens, a monastic community singing group, sang in the 80's. I have one tape. One song goes, "You will show me the path of life and guide me to joy forever." The moment I hear the first note, my heart opens wide, and my soul begins to soar.

Such music teaches me that I am on a path, one of my own choosing. I try daily to walk the path of life with you, my great and wondrous guide. Sometimes I sidestep, trying to get around you or quietly move in another direction. Of course, I am never silent enough for you not to hear me. Of course you know when I move away or wander astray.

But this music calls me back, reminding me that I am always welcome on the path of life, no matter where I enter. I know your will is that I will choose this path, your path only.

And so in this glorious new day I am giving thanks for the good and the bad, for the light and the darkness, for the grace and the sin; for each has played a part in my return. I am celebrating all those who have guided me back to you. Some are obvious, a godly grandmother. Some are obscure like cancer, divorce, failing health. Obscure because one may think there is only one way to the path, like good and wonderful things. But I have found that difficulties have a way of calling my name. Giant loss has called me homeward. Grace sprinkled all along my life's journey has always been calling out to me. My mistakes, my nasty habits, my sinful nature all have a way about them. They teach me about you. They lead me to you. They speak their truth, then take my hand, placing it in yours. My whole life has been filled with pointers to the path, to you. And joy has been my lot.

Lead me,
grace of God,
lead me
home to you.
Teach me
of your love
so I'll always
return to you.
Show me
your way,
your truth
and your life.
Let faith
be my guide
and courage
my friend
as I wonder
the world
filled with sin.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Dear God,

I'm going to spend my day writing words on a page, filling paper with ideas that could lead to transformation and change. I'm going to spend my day in prayer, in meditation, asking you to lead me.

In just a few weeks women will gather in holy space. They will be expectant, joyous to be together. They will look at me as their leader and they will want to take hold of you. They will desire a new look at faith. They will want to believe that you can alter their situations, bringing about a new perspective, a fresh new hope. They will want to meet you where you are.

Help me draw
fresh water
from the river.
Fill up my bucket
with water
that quenches every thirst.
Pour out your living water
upon my dry, dusty mind.
Let it flow; let it flow.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Dearest God,

Laughing in the face of fear?

How many times have I colored a green "goblin" and then gave it power over my body, mind and soul, so much so that I was paralyzed by the grotesque, frightening giant? Oh, so many times.

What is self-made fear that we give it so much power? Whose message first told me to be afraid? And why did I believe it?

As a desert dweller, I am learning the truth about myself and my comrades. More than once this Lenten season I have been pricked by cactus needles. Scrapes and scratches have revealed the truth beneath my skin. I hold onto fear.

And what am I afraid of? Being rejected? Falling from the sky? A prowler getting me? Unfounded fears with powers of their own sometimes plague me.

But tonight as I considered my personal fears, I laughed in their face. I nearly became hysterical because it was so absurd. The laughter seemed to clear out a few cobwebs that had formed over my fears keeping them covered so they could continually hide in my soul. As the webs fell at my feet, I could see them, revealed for the first time. Slimy, gray green globs. And I give these little fellas power?

My circle of grace understands. They know me, at least some level of me. They know I have fears. They told me they do too. And instead of being afraid, tonight we laughed at our fears, together.

Do you ever wonder why
we create fear
that prowls around
inside our soul?
Do you ever wonder why
we hang on
to the little bit of nothing
when you are offering
a lot of eternal something?
Only you know,
really know,
Great and Wondrous God.
In the face
of this knowledge,
I fall at your feet,
embarrassed, ashamed,
feeling foolish and child-like.
I'm packing up my fears,
sending them on their way,
replacing them
with trust.
I can't do this alone.
I really need your help.
I've been holdin' on
for a long, long time.
Lettin' go,
that's what
I want to do.
Holding your hand.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Dear God,

Two people in a room together discovering who they really are. Giving voice to the past, to the truth that sets people free.

Our church has become an open door to the truth. Here people find themselves. Wandering alone for a long time, they have settled here living with the truth that sets people free. Drawn by a force they never saw nor heard, they walked in. In time the truth was revealed. In fact they revealed it themselves because they could. You can tell the truth at home where the truth is revered as a way to set people free.

Perhaps it was because this church has become home to both. They found both their mother and father here, their sisters and brothers. Their family is here, welcoming, loving, forgiving, telling the truth with them, celebrating the truth that sets people free.

The church. Home to God. The beloved community of Jesus. The church where Jesus reveals the truth to willing participants. Each Sunday, sometimes through the week, people drop the facade of a person who once lived in their body. They are releasing, letting go, surrendering the past. They sort through the new creation theory, then stand in line to try on the new clothes waiting for them at the altar.

Hope awaits them as they do the work, the hard work of truth telling, of exchanging old clothes for new, of living a new life. We have this hope in great commodity. Every time someone takes some out, more seems to appear. Hope multiplying. Faith expanding beyond our ability to take it all in.

The truth that sets people free. We have it right here.

The truth,
"tell me the stories
of Jesus,
I want to hear."
That sets people free,
"things I would
ask him
to tell me
if he were near."
The truth,
the honest-to-God
truth that
is setting
people free.
No surprise
here at your home.
We're freeing people,
liberating them,
setting them
on a hill
to run, sing, and play.
New clothes
for new activities.
The Spirit
at work...
again.

Loving you for your wondrous ways, Andrea

Monday, March 3, 2008

Dearest God,

I walked into the kitchen as the night was turning to day. I saw the orange pink light reflected upon my neighbor's white fence. I felt invited to enter the new day unfolding. So, in my night clothes I stepped out onto the patio. Because I had on socks but no shoes I leaned over the edge of the patio to see the peeking sun's head rising. Soft, billowy clouds layered in the sky, showing their pink edges. I gazed into the beauty of yet another new day.

I breathed in the air of spring. Sure it may snow tonight, but I smelled spring inching its way to the surface. I looked down and saw all the debris from fall and winter and realized the sound of spring beneath it. I know the cycle promised will soon take hold.

I try as much as I can to live in the now, the today I am given. I try to live in the present moment acknowledging that this moment is already full of my attention. If I am too focused on the tomorrow, I will miss the today. I know it to be true. Two minutes after walking back inside, the color was gone. Had I been thinking of tomorrow, I would have missed the beauty present before me today.

A moment
of spectacular beauty
came
as a gift
this morning.
And I received it.
A glimpse,
a glimmer
of the Divine.
I watched
and waited
for the sound
of your coming.
Just then
the bells chimed.

Loving you, Andrea

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Dear God,

I watched as the idea took hold, how worn people from the weekend suddenly came to life. I saw it the instant the spirit entered the scene. You were present in the living room.

We had come to a standstill, a state of being stuck. Another vote would have permanently lodged us in concrete. We had to find another way.

The insight had come when we had met with a professional about another matter. The professional left for another meeting but we had stayed to talk. "Wait a minute! Maybe we've been operating from a wrong assumption." I had said and we all agreed it was possible.

So we came together to talk with a person in the know, a man with expertise. At first we looked like we were digging a deeper hole beneath us. I could feel the dirt being thrown in over us, but then something happened and everything changed.

A light shone, the bulb remaining on for the rest of the meeting. We came up with a plan, a good one I think. A way to get us all together, involved, making positive decisions for our future...with you.

Where are we
if not with you?
What good
can we do
without you?
You bring
the light.
You offer
us a way,
then lead us
to your destination.
As true followers,
we see the light
and follow it
the distance.
Keep ever before us,
O Lord,
do not let us
lose sight
of you.
Lead us,
we pray.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, March 1, 2008

My dearest God,

Ordinary time, Roman Catholics talk about ordinary time. Ordinary time I believe is the time between liturgical seasons. Ordinary time.

What about life is ordinary? Is the fact that one can think, gain insight, then act ordinary? Is love extended to an offender ordinary? A married couple expressing their deepest love to one another, is it ordinary? A child born, ordinary?

It seems to me that life is extraordinary when lived out in you. My life is a watch; I watch for sightings of you, signs of your presence. I find nothing greater than this.

Forgiveness, grace, love, wisdom, hope, peace, all extraordinary because they are all rooted in you. Life without them is not really life at all.

Daily I grab for the extraordinary because in it I find you. I discover that the power that makes life so beautiful is the power of faith. And that power is extraordinary, beyond the limits of human power, even love's power.

Nothing about life is ordinary for me. The slightest movement of the Spirit reaches the depths of my own soul when I'm listening, when I'm attentive. I turn my attention to you, recognizing that the ability to know the sound of the spirit is a gift of the spirit itself.

Who would not want an extraordinary journey of life? Who would not want to taste the sweetness of the spirit? Who would not want to be captured by the spirit's love? This journey is filled with you, oh so much you.

Nothin's ordinary
with you.
An ordinary day's
not ordinary at all.
Waking up
to your voice
is anything
but ordinary.
Feeling your touch
when I'm down
is not the touch
of ordinary.
Following your way
is not the way
of ordinary.
I'm praying
to you,
Extraordinary God,
for you have
made my life
anything but ordinary.
And I'm
lovin' you always.

Love, Andrea